Chapter Text
The beeping was deafeningly loud.
Working at Surfer Boy Pizza came with a lot of perks, like receiving one free pizza a day or access to a cult-like network of Californian potheads, but every time a new order came through, Will Byers couldn’t help but wince at the horrid beeping.
Will rolled dough out with his knuckles, pressing down and flattening it.
Another beeping.
Will was startled. He groaned and continued to knead his dough, pouring all his frustration into his arms as he pressed it down. He picked up the sauce and began to drizzle it all over the pizza, drowning the base in a delectable sea of tomato. He was pretty good at making pizza, if he did say so himself. He made his pizzas with strength and grace and precision and—
“BEEP BEEP BEEP!”
Will's hand jolted and sauce poured all over him.
“Oh, for the love of—”
But the beeping continued, repeating over and over again. Will, angered, ran to the source, only to find it wasn’t the beeping of a new order—it was the ringing of the phone. He reached over and pulled the phone off the wall.
“Surfer Boy Pizza, how can I help you?” he said miserably.
Will heard a recognisable chuckle on the other end.
“Hello, um yeah, I need one thousand pepperoni pizzas. And I need them right now.”
A smile curled at Will’s lips.
“Mike, you can’t call me when I’m working.”
Mike pleaded, “But I thought you said you were never busy on Wednesdays?”
“We never usually are, but for some reason today orders are piling up like your laundry when your mum is out of town.”
“Ha ha, very funny, Will.”
Will snickered. “Glad you think so.”
Mike took a breath, deep enough to be audible through the phone.
“So what are you doing today?” he asked.
“Working,” Will said. “Like pretty much all day.”
“Really? It’s the weekend. Don’t you want to hang out with your new friends?”
Will didn't have the heart to tell Mike that he didn’t have any new friends—he didn’t want them either. No one could ever measure close to the party he grew up with.
“It’s okay, Mike. They’re working too,” Will lied.
“Wow. Lenora is boring as shit!”
“Hey, you can’t say anything! You won’t come visit me!”
“You won’t come visit me in Hawkins either.”
Will’s breath hitched as Mike said this. As much as Will wanted to go back—to see Mike, to see his hometown—he thought he’d be better off as far away as possible.
“I don't think anyone really needs me there,” Will told him.
Mike sounded shocked. “Of course we want you here. It’s Hawkins—it’s not the same without you. And it’s your home, and your party is here waiting for you. We will never forget you, whether you try to run from us or not.”
“It’s not you that I’m trying to run from, Mike.”
Silence. Loud silence.
“I just—” Will stammered. “You saw demos and saw the flayer, but you didn’t feel them like I did. The flayer, Mike—it ate away at every thought I had until nothing was left in my head except him. No matter how many demogorgons we kill or how many times we escape the flayer, every second that I’m in Hawkins, I feel him. And it’s like he’s watching, Mike, and I’m sorry, but I just can’t do it.”
Silence. Somehow even louder than before.
“Everything that happened in Hawkins—it isn’t your fault, Will.”
Will’s cheeks turned rosy. Mike knew him well—maybe better than he knew himself.
“Th-That’s not what I’m saying,” Will challenged.
Mike, with audible worry in his voice, said, “Will, I’ve known you pretty much my whole life. You’re my best friend in the whole world, so I know what you mean.”
“Mike, I didn’t say that it was all my fault.”
“You thought it, though.”
Yet another awkward silence. Will was beginning to regret even picking up the phone.
“I’m right, Will,” Mike said.
Will heard a new voice on Mike’s line.
“Of course you’re right, Wheeler! Mike the Great, isn’t it?”
“It’s Mike the Brave.”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, your majesty. Who are you talking to anyway?”
“Will.”
“Oh my God! Really? Wheeler, take a break from Byers—it’s my turn.”
“I’m the one who called him!”
“And I’m the one who is talking to him. Now go sling some ice cream, Wheeler.”
Will chuckled under his hand. He was finding this interaction very amusing. He loved that Max was breaking the awkwardness of his and Mike’s previous conversation. He heard Mike’s voice fade, and Max started speaking into the phone.
“Byers! How’s it going?”
“It’s going alright. Thanks for saving me from Mike—it was getting a bit awkward with him.”
“Not your fault. Wheeler is an awkward guy.”
Max’s comment coaxed a laugh from Will.
“So what were you doing before Wheeler rudely interrupted your day?”
“I was making a Hawaiian pizza. I was doing a great job until Mike distracted me. It’s been so long, I bet it’s gone cold.”
“Really, Byers? Hawaiian? I thought you would be more than one of those ‘pineapple on pizza’ lovers.”
“I don’t get to choose what people order, Max. I never said I liked it!”
“Okay then, Byers. That’s good. You deserve better than pineapple on pizza.”
Max went silent on the other line, it seemed as though she was gathering her thoughts.
“Will, you should come and see everyone in Hawkins.”
Will wasn’t prepared to have this conversation again.
“I—uh… don’t really think tha—”
Will heard rustling on the other end—Max and Mike’s voices clashing, arguing, fighting over control of the phone.
“Go sling ice cream!” Mike commanded.
“No! You were talking with Byers way longer than I was. I’ve barely even had a turn!”
“I bet he doesn’t even want to speak to you.”
“How would you know that? Oh wait—I remember! You’re Mike the Great. You’re right about everything.”
“It’s Mike the Brave!”
Will didn’t want to listen to this anymore. He didn’t understand why his friends were fighting over him like that. He didn’t think he was worth it.
He hovered the phone back over the holder, ready to slam it down and hang up, but he stopped as he heard Mike’s voice coming through clear as day.
“Will, if you don’t come visit us, then I’ll come all the way out to Lenora to see you, okay!”
Will slammed the phone down.
Will had loved Mike for as long as he could remember. Talking to Mike gave him the best feeling in the world. It was deep in his heart—it felt as though if he jumped off a skyscraper, he would be able to fly, because with Mike, he could do anything.
The whole party could tell that Will liked Mike—everyone except Mike, which Will found annoying but simultaneously relieving.
On top of that, he found it really awkward that Mike knew Will was gay. Mike had literally told Will that he was gay in the summer of 1985. Will remembered Mike’s words—they left a mark too deep to ever erase.
“It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”
He thought back, and he wished—he begged—that he had said something different, something like…
“But it is your fault, Mike! Because I love you more than anyone I know, and nothing you could ever say or do—no distance or time—could ever change that.”